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  Sam, who was looking too, took a deep breath.

  “There! Watch!”

  Mason did. It was brutal, and didn’t seem to have a reason behind it.

  When Lewis, who might well be an innocent man wanted for something he hadn’t done at all, took a step away from the potentially deadly armored blow, everyone in the room that had to do with the Military Combat Team descended on him with an amount of force that seemed insane. The first man, who had scared Lewis into action explained it out loud, almost as if trying to make the insanity seem justified.

  “The suspect is trying to flee! Detain him. Attempting to run is a sign of guilt, go to level two apprehension techniques!”

  Mason didn’t know what that was, which was probably good, since what he could see through the vomit light made him lose it then and start getting sick. The beating the man took was inhumane, to be certain. His normal human flesh wasn’t able to handle what powered armor could do to him, and things cracked and creaked as the men and women yanked, pulled and struck him. Even after the man was incapable of doing anything except groaning, the first armored guy called out that he was resisting.

  Verbally. By making pained noises.

  That meant more beating until the guy didn’t move or make any sounds at all.

  The room went quiet, and the green light that had Mason doubled over the white tile floor with hands on knees to stay upright, stopped. It left him half blind and highly disoriented as more yelling came then.

  “Get out! If you don’t want to be arrested for interfering in police business, get out of here. Now. There will be no other warnings.”

  Mason didn’t think he could walk, but he did it, Sam taking his arm to guide him. She wasn’t blind for some reason. Possibly because she’d been smart enough to buy that nifty imbed. He was going to find out what it was, and see about making his own, as soon as he could. This kind of thing couldn’t happen.

  It was against the law. He was nearly certain of it.

  In a move that seemed like it took minutes, but was probably over in a few seconds, he was pulled to the door and through it. Somewhere along the way a hand was near his other arm, so he grabbed it, and pulled the woman it belonged to along with them. It wasn’t everyone in the room by far, but for some reason the MCT decided to take mercy on the rest of them, and hadn’t just attacked the people that were disoriented and getting sick. Not that he could see.

  One of the blue and black robot like bodies, their faces covered totally, lightly pushed the others onto the street. It was done almost gently, compared to the scene that had just taken place inside.

  “We need to get out of here. Where did you park your bike?”

  “To the left of the door. I can’t see. It’s about half a block down.”

  They walked, the waitress being left behind after a few steps, which was good. He only had a two seater. Thankfully it didn’t take hours to be able to see again. It was funny though, since just as he could, Sam pulled his hand to the lock, and grunted.

  Now te sounded like a man. The voice had gone deeper again. Not a lot though, just enough to lend a bit of truthfulness to the act. Mason was disoriented still, but fumbled with the lock, finding the worn out zero, and manipulating the thing carefully from there. The metal was cool to the touch, even though it was still light out. The silver had bounced a lot of the heat away.

  A short two minutes later that was off, and blinking hard, he moved into the driver’s seat.

  “Get in. Behind me.” He couldn’t see very well yet, but didn’t want to risk staying. It was just so hard to believe that the cops had done that. They’d nearly killed that man, for no reason.

  “Can you drive yet?”

  Lying, he nodded, then focused as hard as he could, not wanting to die in particular. Thankfully everyone on the road was avoiding the one way street. He had to move past the police transport units, the big things powered by something a lot stronger than super capacitors. They had to be, in order to move their own bulk around. It was illegal for civilian use, but he thought they might be gas powered. Old style fossil fuels. Regardless, they were huge, compared to his little pedal transport. It seemed menacing, and intimidating, as he looked up at the large black and blue machines.

  His own bike was so small, and powered only by what a human could do.

  Mason had overbuilt the thing, since he tended to do that, including a capacitor that was made of cellulose and ammonia, which let him turn the signaling lights on. He had to use hand controls for them, but they worked, and would prevent the cops from coming after him. Maybe. He hoped so.

  On the way back toward home, not knowing what else to do, or where to go, he started to be able to see normally again. From the back seat he could hear Sam breathing slightly heavily, working the other set of pedals. It helped increase the amount of available drive force. Enough so that he wasn’t even breathing that hard when he pulled into the parking garage of his apartment complex.

  The large gray building was old, but kept in decent repair for all that. The lines on the inside had been replaced a few years before, so instead of being a plain and slightly reflective yellow, they were a constantly glowing green color. It was enough to see by that he rode the ramp to the second story without needing the headlights. Once there he chained his baby to the inset post he’d put in for the purpose in his spot, and climbed out.

  Not speaking, he waved at Sam.

  Te followed along, moving as if this were some kind of strange trip to a place Sam had never been to before. Which it was. All of their meetings had been either done over the phone, VR, or physically going someplace neither of them lived. Normally bars and coffee houses. Now Mason had to wonder what the reason behind that had been.

  He’d kind of thought that Sam was just a bit lonely before. Now it all seemed more like there was a plan behind it all.

  A sinister and dark one that involved the cops beating down innocent eatery patrons. It didn’t make any sense though. Mason could feel that one, but it might also be the shock. That he was traumatized by what had happened wasn’t in doubt. Being a dick about it wasn’t going to help anything though, it was clear. Sam was his friend. At least he thought that might be the case.

  She wouldn’t do anything to get him into trouble.

  They walked, using the stairs since he was only one floor up, and they were right there anyway. It was actually a longer trip to get to the elevator. Mason had never really trusted the things either. If the power went out, the stairs would work. The elevator could plummet into a fiery pit.

  Oh, sure, that wasn’t a real thing, being they were only going three floors up, but it was the idea of that happening that kept him from using the hanging box unless needed. In truth it wasn’t just the falling portion of events, but the idea of being trapped in a little box that did it.

  Sam didn’t say anything, just looking up at the cameras which were situated at the landing. They moved in silence. Mason didn’t know what to say, and if Sam was going to share anything with him, te, or she if that was a real thing, didn’t seem to want to do anything where anyone could see it happening. For the very first time since they’d met, Mason had to wonder if being around a person he didn’t know much about was actually safe.

  It was the kind of thought that he didn’t want to have. Not just because he felt oddly connected to Sam, the gender-neutral person. It was that things like that weren’t real anymore. Violence barely happened now, and when it did it always seemed to involve drugs, or momentary anger getting out of hand. Well, or people fighting with the police. He’d never thought of that as violence before though. They were the good guys. They only ever acted to protect themselves, or others. It was what the news said.

  He thumbed the doorpad when they got there. The hallway was pretty clean, done in shades of white and cream. The door itself was a bright white, and had a camera right in the center of it. They all did. Sam stared at it in passing, then pointed on the way past, when he opened the way.

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; “Do you own the feed on this, or does the building?”

  “I do. It’s part of the lease. Why?”

  “Because I like to know who’s tracking my whereabouts. It comes up. Paparazzi. You know how it is, being famous and wanted by millions.” There was a playful, and girlish tone to the voice as Mason shut them in. For the first time in a while he double checked to make certain it was locked.

  Not that it would save him if an MCT came after them.

  “What was that? How did you know that guy was going to be… Murdered like that?” There was no other word for it, but Sam, rubbing a little at the blue and white face paint with a single finger, shook her head.

  “Probably not dead. They’re very good at not just executing people. As for how we knew it was going to happen, well, it normally does anymore. You won’t hear about it on the news, in case that’s what you’re wondering. I’ve seen this happen ten times, in person. Not always for the same thing, but only one of those times did the whole thing go smoothly. Innocent people each time.” There was a darkness to the words. A heaviness that seemed to make everything around them sag a bit.

  Mason wondered if it was acting skill. Even if Sam wasn’t a famous actress, there was clearly a certain flair for the dramatic going on. Now that he’d noticed it, that part was clear. Even the whole gen-neutral thing was kind of an act. Not just for Sam either.

  Everyone that did it was kind of trying to manipulate the world to their will. No one, or almost no one, was psychologically neutral that way. You had men, women, and people that were both, as well as people that were born as one and felt like another. What wasn’t natural was pretending that you were so special that you weren’t allowed to be categorized in any normal way. Even that pronoun choice, te, was an affectation that the movement had made up. It was stolen from the word “they” but shortened so that it wouldn’t be confused with the plural.

  Normal people wouldn’t choose to force that kind of thing on the others around them. There was no place in human psychology for things like that. It was confusing, and worse, done on purpose, just to be a pain in the ass.

  Which was, he had to admit, what he liked about the movement. It had never been for him, being too much work, but you had to admit that those that were willing to pull it off for any length of time were truly dedicated to their cause. Whatever that really was.

  Stripping away the ancient ideas of gender, to bring about a new world. That was the tag line.

  Sam coughed a bit, and looked around, taking the place in. The judgment in the light blue eyes wasn’t too harsh. The whole thing was in four rooms, with a full sized bathroom rounding it out, and while it wasn’t vast, it was more than enough for one person. Most of it was white and light tan. It had been the color scheme when he’d moved in, so everything he added was in keeping with that. Most of what had been put in over the last three years Mason had made himself.

  Thanks to the second room in the place.

  The layout was the familiar one, he knew. A bedroom, a VR chamber, and a storage area. In his case that last one was used for his equipment. The prototype disassembly unit he was working on, as well as his three print units. Though calling them that would show that the person doing it didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.

  Right there, in his own apartment, he had what would have amounted to millions of dollars of stuff, if anyone was ever wise enough to understand what they were looking at. It was all to his own original plan too, meaning that he had the copyright for it all. Nothing in the entire place was anything less than legal.

  If it weren’t for the shaking and residual feeling of being ill from what he’d seen, he might have bothered to feel slightly smug. As it was, Mason decided to just sink onto his frame chair and breathe for a bit. Heavy inhalations that reminded him to exercise more.

  The noise in the room was muffled, but annoying suddenly. His neighbors talking past the thin walls, a few yells, since they were probably in virt at the moment. There was even the sound of a dog barking. It was a small beast, but he was nearly certain it was real. If not, then one of his neighbors was a real asshole, since the thing barked for hours, at random times.

  Sam sank onto his sofa. It was a big thing, but te made sure not to lean against the back or let the face paint get on the white surface.

  “I used to think, when I first saw how they attacked people like that, I used to assume that the police were all evil. I mean they- nearly had to be in order to do that, don’t you think? No one tears into someone else like that. A gang of armed and armored people going after someone, the brutality of it… Most people can’t even imagine it. That’s why you had to see first. Otherwise you wouldn’t have believed me.” Sam had his, or her, hands on the front of te’s heavy buff colored trousers. It was very formal looking, and tense on a level that didn’t make sense.

  Which was probably all about nerves, and fear, now that whatever plan te had in mind with Mason was really starting. There was a sense of being watched. Not the impersonal kind that the world always held, but a spotlight like focus on him directly. Coming from the person with him. It was more direct eye contact than he was used to, or at all comfortable with.

  “Now you don’t think they’re evil? I… I don’t even know what we really saw. You told me it was going to happen, if I’d just seen it…”

  “Right.” The masklike face gave a slow, but steady nod. “If you’d been there and that had happened, you would have looked away from the dazzler, and not seen that Lewis wasn’t really resisting arrest or trying to run. The problem there is that by any sane standard, it was clear that he didn’t. The thing is, legally, he did.”

  That got him to make a face. Probably one akin to what would have happen if his puppy had died. If he’d let himself have one of those. The yippy animal in the distance reminded him why he didn’t have one. The constant sound was soothing however, in the moment. Familiar, even as it distracted him from reality for a moment.

  “The step back, away from the power glove that came at his face. It’s why the MCT guy called that out?” Mason liked to think he wasn’t stupid, most days. He wiped his hair out of his face. It was a little long at the moment, the light brown wisps getting in the way more often than he was comfortable with.

  “Ding. Exactly. You know that no one can record what the cops are doing on duty? But they record everything else. The high hand to the face like that is a thing they’re all taught to do. I don’t know what they think it’s doing, but almost everyone will step back from it, and it doesn’t show on their personal feeds. Part of their accepted practices. So in court it will look like Lewis was trying to get away. Which he was, not wanting to be hit. That the blow wouldn’t have landed, missing by about an inch, that won’t be part of what is spoken about. His lawyer isn’t legally allowed to use that bit, since there’s no proof of wrongdoing on the police officers part. There’s literally no evidence, so it will be taken as a lie.” There was a sense of exhaustion from the person then, and a bit of a white streak on the trousers from the right hand forefinger.

  Mason didn’t mention it, but Sam looked down and shook te’s head.

  “Fuck. Anyway, Lew there will probably be in for six months. He has a clean record, but this season the courts are frowning on people attacking the police. Even if they didn’t. People do love it when we’re all hard on crime.”

  The gender neutral person stood up, and stretched a bit. It seemed like it was time to go, so Mason got up, in order to see Sam out, wondering what the real point had been. It was a bit of a surprise then when te waved at him.

  “Can I clean this stuff off my face? Otherwise I’ll get it all over your furniture. Nice stuff, by the way. Make it yourself?” That could have been rude, since homemade things were looked down on as often as not anymore. Only the poor had to make do with their own handiwork.

  That wasn’t the sound in the voice however.

  “Yep. I’m talented that way. Down that hall, to the right. The first door. Ju
st toss the towels in the recyc, after you destroy them. That makeup isn’t water based, is it?”

  There was a soft chuckle as Sam moved in that general direction.

  “You wish. I’ll be right back out. Can you get us something to eat? We kind of missed dinner, and there are some things to talk about still.”

  What any of those things would be, he couldn’t imagine.

  As Sam vanished into the other room, moving through the tan door with a slight clatter, Mason tried to think through it all.

  It didn’t take long. After all, he’d been shown that the police acted differently than he’d thought. It had to be what the whole thing was about. It was kind of a known thing that the MCT hit hard and fast, and that people could be hurt when it took place. It just had always seemed like the people taken in like that kind of deserved it. They wouldn’t be raided, or slammed, like that, if they weren’t guilty.

  Sam had made a point of telling him it was going to happen first, in order to prove something. Maybe more than one factor.

  For instance, Lewis Rhyse was probably innocent, as claimed. That could be a lie, but there was very little reason for that kind of thing. If he’d been a child murderer, then no one would want to try and make him seem less guilty of it. That meant something important. That the cops had basically savaged a man for no reason, and that it was so common they had built in tricks that let them get away with it. Ones that even they might not be totally cognizant of.

  He tried to imagine what he’d do if he saw a black metal glove flying at his own eyes. Stepping back felt reasonable, every time. Even knowing that a horrible beating would happen if he did, the idea of letting himself be hit just didn’t work. There would be a flinch, a step, or something, every single time.

  You’d need to be insane to just stand there in that situation. That, or so tough that he couldn’t see it really happening.

  Him being told had another meaning though. That was pretty solid too. Sam had established that te, or possibly the people te worked with, could predict the future. Not perfectly, if what had been said was correct, but close enough that he’d been invited to go and witness what had happened, and it did.